


Secrets

by Sycriad



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood, Child Abuse, Child Reader, Dehydration, Desert, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhaustion, F/M, Gore, M/M, Physical Abuse, Starvation, abused child reader, hhhh, i dont wanna go into it, idk if im gonna finish this tbh, im a shit person thats all, injuries, not sugar coating, team fortress 2 x reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-23 09:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sycriad/pseuds/Sycriad
Summary: oops





	1. Tired and Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> If anybody wants to help me work on this I'm open to suggestions

Malignant heat beat down as small feet shuffled across searing sand leaving shallow ruts in their wake. Heat waves caused the air to undulate in the distance, getting more violent the further that their eyeshot expanded. No patch of shade was large enough for shelter and there were no rock formations to duck under if one’s size were any bigger than that of a lizard or snake. 

Dry blood was smeared across small arms and legs, cuts adorned a petite face, and bruises lined a scrawny torso. Small blisters marred frail wrists and torn clothes as well as the withered scrap of a blanket they carried with them reeked of the smell of old cigarettes. Dirty and exhausted they trekked slowly through the heat, blood dripping from reopened scrapes on skinny knees. The footsteps they left after them were bloody due to the increasing heat of the sand gradually burning off the skin on their feet. Hesitantly, their gaze shifted to the sky. The sun would set soon.

They stopped and looked back toward the direction the had come from. What if they came back? They wouldn't ACTUALLY leave them here, right? Doubts lingered in the back of their head but they still kept an open mind. What if they brought ice cream when they came to pick them up? Or some fizzy juice? Or even a nice cheese pizza from Giuseppe’s? Their mouth watered at the thought of food and their stomach snarled and rippled with undertones of unsubtle hunger pangs. 

The burning sensation of thirst made it painful to swallow as they attempted to force their mouth to produce enough saliva to moisten the dryness in their throat but to no avail. They went for as long as they could manage without swallowing to avoid the agony that could easily be compared to that of swallowing glass shards. The world around them was whirling, their head aching, and their heart pounding. They were no longer sweating. Dehydration had set in.

The gaunt legs that held them up shook more and more with each step they took and suddenly their body made an impact with the sand, pants escaping their lips. Their mind went fuzzy and a sharp pain bloomed in their chest. Exhaustion had made its mark.

They slowly rolled onto their back, watching the sun slowly sink below the horizon. It was nighttime. The moistureless air caused the heat that the sand held to dissipate, the temperature dropping rapidly. The lack of cloud cover only quickens the pace of the loss of warmth, leaving the small child to lay in the frigid sand, shaking uncontrollably. They stretched their arms in front of them, digging their fingers into the grains before weakly pulling themselves forward. The small child laid there, strength given out, waiting to die. (E/C) eyes stared dully ahead, sight shifting in and out of focus.

A gasp faintly escaped their lips as their eyes locked onto something in the distance. Scrawny arms pushed a frail body off of the ground as they forced themselves the press forward. They scooped up their blanket, that’s color was no longer distinguishable, out of the dirt and forced their feet to step forward.

The farther they got the more the hope in their chest grew, yet it diminished just as fast when they were struck with the realization that the body of water they saw was just a mere mirage. Only more sand and the occasional cactus were in its place. Flooded with despair the young tyke fell to their knees once more, fear creeping in on them.

After a short while of weeping, a small sniff was heard behind them. They tensed, slowly turning their head towards the sound behind them, only to see a small coyote pup smelling the blanket they had dragged around with them. The small furball yipped and took the glance as a sign to play, grabbing the blanket between tiny teeth and giving it a tug. The frail youth let out an upset yelp, making an attempt to pull the blanket away, further fueling the pup’s desire to pull. They tugged back a forth for a little bit before the small child started crying and gave up, pushing the pup away from them. It yipped in surprise, alerting its nearby mother that something was amiss. 

The mother rushed over in seconds, planting herself defensively at her baby’s side. The child began to quake in fear, making a feeble attempt at moving away to no avail. The mother charged sinking her teeth defensively into the child's arm that they had held up as some form of pitiful protection. A loud yelp escaped their lips as blood poured from the injury. The mother snarled as her pup dropped the blanket and yipped. She snapped angrily at the child, landing another bite, but this time on the leg. They emitted another cry of pain and themselves farther away. They gathered all the strength that they could, ran up as fast as their small, weak legs could carry them, swiped their blanket off the ground and sprinted in the other direction with all of their might. They ran for a good 8-10 minutes before collapsing from exhaustion once again. The next thing they knew they were out cold

The awoke to several loud bangs off in the distance. ‘Why are people firing fireworks?’ They thought to themselves. It’s not July yet, nor is it new years. Looking down at themselves, they noted the blood on their wounds had dried, the scrapes on their knees from falling had scabbed over, and the pricks on their fingers from trying to pry water out of cacti had partially faded. They were still starving and thirsty, but fireworks meant people so, slowly but surely crawled that way with the sliver of willpower they had left. 

(E/C) eyes watched on in horror as a severed arm hit the fence right as they crawled under. There were corpses and blood all over the place. It was a war zone. A scene that no child should have to bear witness to.

Meanwhile, a tall, lanky Australian man lied in wait on his perch in a hidden spot amongst the chaos below him. “Bloody hell, you’re awful.” He muttered to a soldier who dumbly walked right into his line of sight. He scanned the surrounding area for others. A flash of movement caught his attention and he fired. He heard a squeaky yelp of fear. He looked back in the direction he previously fired, noticing a small child no younger than 5 and no older than 10 beyond the fence. “What in the devil-?” He pushed his glasses up, pinched the bridge of his nose, before surveying his surroundings. Now isn’t the best time to say something but he can’t just leave a fucking 8-year-old child to get shot. He steadily climbed down from his sniper’s nest and snuck over to the child who was currently cowering under a bridge, next to his team's spawn. They were crying as quietly as they could, trying not to draw attention to themselves. The sound of approaching footsteps made them shut up reeeeal quick like. Putting their small hands over their mouth, they forced themselves to stop sobbing, though tears still overflowed from their eyes.

Sniper climbed under the bridge with them, earning a scared jump as the child scurried backward, pulling their blood-soaked blanket tighter around their fragile body. “Oi, how’d ya get in here?”

The child pointed to a hole in the fence, the discarded arm was now gone.

“How’d ya far enough out here to find us?”

A shrug.

“Can ya talk?”

A vertical nod.

“Will ya?”

A horizontal shake of the head.

He sighed. A splash of water behind them alerted them to a new presence and immediately the Australian man pulled out his SMG and shot the intruder straight in the face. No hesitation. The youth’s jaw dropped and they shrieked, clambering away from the tall man in front of them. The gunfire ceased. Sniper put one hand on the top of their head and the other underneath their jaw and clamped their mouth shut.

“SHHH! Are ya tryin’ to get us bloody killed?” The kid shook their head rapidly back and forth, dropping their blanket in the water and weakly hitting his arms. He saw their injuries and slowly released them. It was still silent until the administrator yelled over the intercom then, once more the loud noises resumed. Sniper looked at his watch, then peered out from under the bridge over to the capture point.

OVERTIME

He flattened himself into the dirt and sniped enemies from the other team off of the point so his team could cap. Once they did and it was over he turned to the small child that was still cowering behind him. He crouched down and held a hand out to them. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. Let’s get ya to safety.”

He slowly scooped the kid up in his arms and carted them back to 2fort, unaware of the hell about to break loose between the others.


	2. Fearful Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired and this was as far as I planned ahead  
> I'm not necessarily on speaking terms with the person I was working on this with, so it's lackluster  
> I dunno  
> I'm not really that motivated  
> I haven't been in a while  
> I'm just kinda braindead I guess

It was loud. Very loud. Too loud in fact for the small child who was covering their ears. Despite the fact that it was a cease-fire day and there wasn’t a single bullet, rocket, nor jar of piss flying through the air, the building was rattling. Rattling with the yells of furious men that is. The only thing that could be understood through all the ruckus was Soldier proclaiming that they were a spy as loud as his lungs would possibly allow. The terror was paralyzing, jolting through their body with icy tremors. They were quaking, but all the bickering ceased in a matter of seconds due to Spy slamming his palm against the table with a force not large enough to splinter the wood but violent enough to send a glass onto the floor with a shatter.

“Cease zhis nonsense at once!” He shouted. “You are upsetting zhis child!”

The child peered up at him from behind Sniper’s legs seeing as they still clinging to them like a lifeline, blanket wrapped tightly around them like a safety net. He couldn’t walk right so he just stood still. Spy looked down at them as he put out his cigarette. Kneeling, he slowly held out his arms to them, to which they responded by grabbing his sleeve. Gingerly, he scooped them up.

“How did you find zhis place, oisillon {birdie}?”

They said nothing and instead Sniper piped up for them. “They climbed in through the fence, mate.” At that statement everyone began arguing again, but this time over who neglected to fix the fence. The child in Spy’s arms began to cry, small fists clenching the fabric that made up his clothing.

“If you would all be QUIET zen maybe we can fix zis issue!”

It was silent until Scout spoke up. “Should we, uh, call Miss Pauling?”

“Well, we could always take that youngun back to their parents.” Engineer suggested. Their eyes widened in surprise

“I don’t zink zat zat is such a good idea,” Medic spoke this time, pushing up his glasses. He examined the child closely only to have them flinch away from him and hide their face in Spy’s suit. He stood up straight, put his arms behind his back, and cleared his throat. “Zhere are clear signs of abuse, neglect, and traumatization.”

Everyone exchanged glances. Of course, they were no strangers to violence but inflicted on a child? Especially on one as young as this? Inconceivable! The little one looked up at them once more, having calmed down slightly. Spy sat them down on the table with their legs dangling over the side. He removed the blanket from around them and placed it next to them on the tabletop. The child looked down as everyone stared. They were pretty beaten up. The coyote bite on their arm was in the early stages of infection: swollen, red and clearly tender. The skin on their feet was scorched, blistered, and peeling due to the hot desert sand. Nobody understood how they kept walking. Their arms were lined with welts and cigarette burns and in patterns that almost looked like a disease. Some were fresh and bright purple, the size of hands. Others were smaller, yellowed and fading, obviously older. Most of their skin was covered in water blisters because of the sun’s sweltering heat. They’d been out there for so long that the first-degree burns of the sun’s rays became second-degree burns. They had swollen ligature marks on their throat that had nastily scarred over. All of their injuries were in different stages of healing.

The team took it all in.  
Scout looked away, obviously distraught.  
Heavy was disheartened.  
Demoman, even in his inebriated state, understood what was unfolding and began to, very drunkenly, cry.  
Engineer frowned with eyebrows knitted together in pity.  
Soldier had nothing to say for once.  
Pyro emitted a sad ‘hmph’  
Medic stared on in disgust.  
Sniper removed his hat, and remained quiet.  
Spy gingerly rubbed the child’s back in order to comfort them.

They all had different reactions but they all thought one thing.

‘Why abuse your child?’  
‘Why inflict such pain on a kid?’

“They didn’t mean it…. They said so….” The child finally spoke up and everyone returned their gazes to them.

“Kid if dey didn’t mean it ya wouldn’t be in such bad shape,” Scout muttered.

“How did you get out here, squirt?” Engineer piped up.

“They dropped me off… I-... I walked here…. There was a hole in the fence- I’m sorry-” They began crying again.

“Do not cry leetle one,” Heavy said gently.

Despite dealing with gore every day, they didn’t even go this far. They had no use for torture. They killed one another, yes, but they could respawn. Normal people could not and would not, and this child was a normal person. This was how each of them made a living, they had to do this. For whoever took care of this child, it was unnecessary.

“What do with do with em?” Scout asked. Nobody was sure and couldn’t give a straight answer. They knew Miss Pauling wouldn’t allow this child to stay and neither would the Administrator.

“Vell.... Zhey should at least stay, so I can tend to zhere vounds. Ve can talk about zhis later.” Medic approached the child and kneeled down to their eye level. “Vould you mind coming viz me?” The tyke looked up at Spy and Sniper who both nodded at them. Medic hoisted them up and carried them to his lab. “I vill return shortly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh*


End file.
